


never knew loving could hurt this good

by orphan_account



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, asexual!calum, honestly so much fluff it's disgusting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-07
Updated: 2015-09-07
Packaged: 2018-04-19 13:02:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4747412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>“Do you miss having sex?”</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	never knew loving could hurt this good

**Author's Note:**

> i posted this at one point but i deleted it, so have it again. i like this one. it's ridiculously fluffy. early morning malum and calum is asexual in this one-shot, in case you didn't read the tags!! enjoy (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧
> 
> title's from troye's "wild".
> 
> unedited. will remain unedited.

The pale skin of Michael’s chest is cold underneath Calum’s fingertip. He likes the contrast between their skin tones, he decides, and carefully moves his finger and draws nonsensical patterns over the boy’s soft chest. It’s interesting to watch as his pretty, darker skin almost _melts_ into the sweet, porcelain colour of Michael’s. It’s—it’s a masterpiece, almost. Art in its truest form.

He’s waiting for Michael to wake up so they can spend their day off together, actually—not write poetry of him and Michael. Calum himself hasn’t been awake long, actually, had woken up cuddled into Michael’s neck a few minutes ago. It’s nice, that. Nice that he gets to wake up cuddled into the boy he loves, nice that he just gets to _be_ with Michael.

He’s always liked being so close to Michael, pressed so tightly together that there was no guessing where his body ended and Michael’s began and he knows he always will. There’s nothing that compares to being plastered against his boy, reassured with touches by his boy.

(He knows that Michael likes it too, most of the time, but only when he isn’t feeling suffocated by people. He’s an introvert right down to the very core and although Calum doesn’t fully _understand_ , not being particularly extroverted _or_ introverted himself, he does understand the best he can and gave him space when he needs it.)

Calum soon gets impatient, however, of just _waiting_ for Michael to wake up and decides he’s going to wake Michael up. He doesn’t want to wait any longer to spend time with his boy, and so he props himself up on his elbow so he can see his boyfriend’s sleeping face. He lifts his finger towards Michael’s ticklish nose, intending to tickle the boy awake, and then finds himself _freezing_ in place.

His sleepy brown eyes lock onto Michael’s peaceful face, innocent and vulnerable in a way Michael never usually allows himself to be, and he smiles softly at the appearance of his boyfriend, open and not shying away from Calum’s loving eyes, and oh so very _lovely_ as he lays there. Calum knows that the other boy _hates_ being called _lovely_ because he is the most _punk rock_ person ever, but there are truly no other words to describe Michael when he’s asleep.

(There were other adjectives, of course, like _beautiful_ and _pretty_ but Michael is all of those _all the time_ , even when he tries not be.)

“Stop staring at me,” the sleep-slurred words suddenly tumble messily from Michael’s parted lips and Calum startles, flinches back a little in surprise, and a quiet laugh escapes from his throat before he can help it. The corners of Michael’s lips tip upwards at the sound.

“No,” Calum whispers back. He never wants to look away from Michael, never wants to see anything but the masterpiece before him. Michael’s nose crinkle adorably in distaste, having always been a weird about the times when Calum just stares at him, but he says nothing else, little sleepy noises coming through his parted lips as he so agonisingly slowly wakes up.

Calum watches fondly as Michael’s eyes dance under his delicate eyelids for a while until, finally, his eyelids unglue themselves, slipping open to reveal pretty, sleep-pale green irises.

The instant the other boy is awake, Calum clambers awkwardly over Michael’s body until the smaller boy is tucked securely underneath his own, his knees beside Michael’s pretty hips, and then he presses one hand against the hotel bed to hold himself up and the other hand against Michael’s stubbly cheek. He’s been waiting for Michael to wake up so they can spender the day together but he’s been waiting _this_ more than anything, been waiting to get his hands on Michael.

He feels Michael’s small hands slide under his t-shirt, shivers erupting his body at the cold touch, and then those same hands settle onto the slight dip in his waist, those calloused fingertips digging into his skin slightly. At the same time, he gently runs his thumb over Michael’s cheek and giggles quietly when the stubble tickles the pad of his thumb.

They’re both still sleepy and the atmosphere is sleepy too, and also lazy, each move slow and barely processed. It’s nice, though; it’s nice that they’re able to wake up together and _be_ together without being torn awake and then torn apart to do their jobs. They love their jobs, they really do. There is nothing _more_ they want than to be in the band, than to do what they love every day, but it’s hard to spend time together without the band disrupting it.

So it’s nice. This is nice.

“You’re pretty,” Calum murmurs, dipping his head down to brush his nose against Michael’s. He doesn’t usually tell Michael this stuff—doesn’t usually speak of how _pretty_ Michael is, but the early morning atmosphere’s getting to him. The other boy crinkles his nose adorably again, and Calum’s heart is so, so warm in his chest, filled to the very brim with how much he loves the boy underneath him.

It’s obvious that the early morning atmosphere is getting to Michael, too, because, through a little yawn, he says quietly, “So are you,” and they’re not usually like this in the morning. These pretty words and over-affectionate touches are usually saved for nights, _their_ nights, but it doesn’t matter. Calum _needs_ this right now—needs these words and this affection. He’s got a lot on his mind.

Calum yawns immediately after Michael does, and then they laugh together. A comfortable silence blankets over them as soon as their soft, sleepy laughter fades out, and it stays like that for a long time, just like they stay in their position for a long time.

This morning, it’s easy to stay in silence. They’re usually loud and comments like: “You’re so _gay_ ,” and, “Well, _obviously_ ,” but this morning’s different. They find themselves falling in love again, and it’s not in the same way they usually find themselves falling in love again. This morning they find themselves falling in love with the little pieces: Calum with the way Michael’s black hair looked in the mornings, unstyled and fluffy and messy and just _pretty_ , and Michael falls in love with the way Calum’s cheeks are shaped and so _fluffy_ and the way they’re flushed a sweet pink colour with sleep.

“Michael?” Calum asks a bit later, finally breaking the silence between them. He’s ready, he thinks. He’s got a chaotic tsunami of thoughts in his head, all about the same thing, and he’s ready to ask Michael, to finally know the answer. It’s been near enough _eating_ him alive that he doesn’t know it. His nerves are stinging under his skin and he draws in a slow breath.

“Yeah?” By the concerned furrow of Michael’s brows, he _knows_ something’s wrong and Calum feels his thumbs rubbing gently over the skin of his waist. Calum’s shoulders relax under the t-shirt he’s wearing at the reassuring touch and he dips his head down, leans his forehead against Michael’s. His heart quicks a little bit, just like it always does, when his lips press a little against the other boy’s.

He closes his eyes and he laughs shakily when his eyelashes accidentally brush intimately against the Michael’s. A butterfly kiss almost—and it actually makes him feel better. He draws in a sharp breath and, before he loses his courage, he quickly whispers, “Do you miss having sex?” against Michael’s pretty lips, his own breath stale with sleep, and his whisper is so quiet he wonders if Michael has even heard him.

He hopes he had—Calum doesn’t think he could _ever_ speak those words again.

To Calum, who had been so terrified and almost frozen the instant those words passed his lips, it all happens at once. Everything is a blur, but once the world is in colour and actually _moving_ again, he realises that _he_ has been moved. He’s lying on top of Michael and tucked against the boy’s chest, the boy’s heart beating against his ear. There are a pair of deceptively strong arms were wrapped so tightly around him, a pair of pink lips pressed against his hair and mumbling unintelligible words into the hair.

Calum almost _cries_. He blames it on the morning atmosphere.

He curls his hands into the soft skin of Michael’s waist and closes his eyes and lets Michael hold him and listens to the steady heartbeat under his ear, keeping him grounded and calm and pushing the tears away.

“I love you,” he hears Michael mutter, a sweet kiss following a long after, and then Michael is pulling away despite Calum’s mumbled protest, his chin settling on top of Calum’s messy hair a moment later. With Michael’s hand rubbing softly over his back and tucked against Michael’s chest, Calum’s never felt more _loved_ in his entire life.

“I do miss sex, yeah,” Michael eventually admits and, then, instantly after, he says casually, as though it isn’t even a big deal, “but I don’t _need_ it and I don’t want it. I want _you_ and that’s all I’ll ever want.”

Calum actually cries, that time, at the sweet words that are buried always in Michael’s tongue but usually go unsaid, and he suffers Michael’s teasing for it—“You crying like a _baby_ , Hood?”—but _everything_ is so worth it. His head’s calm because he knows the answer now, knows that Michael isn’t going to break up with him because he wants sex, and there is nothing more he wants than Michael and them together and just this life. Everything is perfect.

**Author's Note:**

> \- 2017: author cherries/groots (deleted); tumblr @faemikey (inactive). thanks for reading!


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